


Wake Me Up With a Kiss

by matildajones



Series: Tumblr Fics [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Sleeping Beauty Fusion, Alternate Universe - Werewolves Are Known, Consent Issues, M/M, True Love's Kiss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-17
Updated: 2014-09-17
Packaged: 2018-02-17 18:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2319116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matildajones/pseuds/matildajones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Modern Day Sleeping Beauty. Stiles works at a museum.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wake Me Up With a Kiss

 As the night guard for the local museum, Stiles knows how eerie empty hallways can be. He’s been working there a few months now and he’s trailed through the exhibits many times, but by far his favourite room is the one with the Sleeping Beauty. That’s what all the kids call him, all the locals – and it’s them who get all the money from the tourists that flock in to see him.

 Stiles likes to sit in that room with the stubbled man not far from him. He thinks it must be something to do with how he’s the only other living thing in the museum. Alive, but asleep. Golden script rests above his head on a shining piece of paper, complete with a short poem about True Love’s Kiss.

 Stiles hates it. Everyone these days knows about magic or werewolves or the supernatural. Scott’s been bitten but he doesn’t like to advertise it even though the world’s tried to embrace different creatures and magic. It’s meant that security has become a whole lot tighter, protection spells and wards working together around the museum.

 But the man is clearly under a spell, suspended in what Stiles imagines is a thick veil, a gap between the not quite living and the not quite dead. Each day, people from around the country line up to see him. They pay their silver and gold coins and then they kiss him on his hand, or lips, or forehead. Stiles hates thinking about it because clearly, clearly this is still a person. His body is being used for money and everyone wants to be the one who wakes him.

 But sometimes it’s nice, listening to the sound of the man’s breathing. It makes him feel less alone. Stiles wishes everyone knew his name, and perhaps his curiosity was piqued long ago because between his hourly runs of the museum floors he finds the time to dig into the museum’s computer records. They’re confusing.

» 

 “Dude,” says Stiles, bleary eyed when Scott comes in the next morning. He’s one of the guides and he always has to arrive early to set up one of the children’s activities downstairs. It also helps that Kira comes at about this time too, taking over Stiles’ job. There’s always someone at the Sleeping Beauty exhibit. Always, and Stiles may have had a part to play in that.

 The amount of money the exhibit brings into the town and museum meant that he couldn’t get them to stop the kissing of an unconscious person, but he did manage to implement a system where no one could get too carried away. Sometimes he thinks people forget that this man is more than just a body.

 “You have that face,” Scott tells him.

 “What face?”

 “The face where you’ve done something not good and you’re going to drag me into it,” he says and Stiles scowls.

 He closes the book in his hands. “There was a spell on him, Scotty, but on the rest of us too.  I know it seems like this guy has been here since forever, but I looked on the computer records and whoever did the spell was lazy because they say he’s really only been here six months.”

 Scott scrunches his face in confusion. “Huh?”

 “This room used to have the bones of some dead person,” Stiles explains.

 “So?”

 “So!” Stiles says excitedly, jumping to his feet. “That means that there’s someone out there who might actually know him! If I can figure out who he is and where he’s from, there might be someone who is actually his true love. Then the spell can be broken and he can have his life back.”

 “And how are you going to do that?”

 Stiles bites his lip, shifting a little on his feet. “You know the display in the glass case?”

 Scott nods.

 “Those aren’t actually props. That shit belonged to him,” he gestures towards the sleeping man, whose chest is still rising and falling evenly.

 Scott’s eyes are wide. “You broke into it.”

 He clears his throat, running a hand through his hair and trying to act like it’s not that big of a deal. It’s not like he’s going to lose his job or anything if someone finds out. He’s sure that other night guards poke their noses into displays all the time. Not.

 “I found his diary, or journal, or whatever,” he says quietly. “There are two of them. I’m going to read them and find his family, and they can point us to someone who can break the spell.”

 “Instead of strangers paying money to kiss him?”

 Stiles nods. “And I’ve found out his name.”

 “What?”

 “Derek.”

» 

 He doesn’t think that he’s become obsessed. It’s difficult to find things to do when everybody he knows is sleeping. The night is lonely, and at least Stiles can feel like he’s helping someone. The more he reads the journals the more he discovers that this man Derek deserves a whole lot more than the hand he’s been given.

 “Dude, are you talking out loud to him?” Scott asks incredulously.

 Stiles flushes. “Um, maybe. But, dude, this guy is fucking hilarious and dry. I  _get_ him, you know?”

 “So you do talk to him?” his friend says.

 “Maybe. Fine. I do. It passes the time.”

 Scott rolls his eyes and with one last look at the sleeping man, Stiles steps out of the museum. The early light of the day is pretty, but it’s always chilly and Stiles never has anyone to go home to. It’s hard to meet people when the only job you can find is at night and alone.

» 

 Scott nudges his shoulder the next morning. He’s fallen asleep with his head on the display table, forehead pressed against the corner of Derek’s shoulder. Stiles almost falls off the chair his butt is perched on, the journal falling to the floor and in a mad rush he tries to pick everything up.

 “Shit, I need to put this back,” he says hurriedly. Scott raises his eyebrows, watching his friend clamber about the room before he puts this Derek person’s belongings back where they should be. Stiles then turns around with a triumphant smile. “Breakthrough!” he announces.

 “What?”

 “He was in love with a girl called Paige. She’s the one!” Stiles says excitedly, glancing at the dark haired man. He bites his lip and imagines someone Derek actually knows coming in to wake him up. She’d be pretty, worried for Derek, and she’d come in and press her gentle lips to Derek’s forehead.

 Stiles hums when he walks home. He feels a little sad too, because he’s begun to piece the scraps of Derek’s life together with the hints dropped between his handwritten words. He doesn’t know what has happened to Paige, just knows she exists and that Derek mentions her often, and Stiles now knows that Derek dated a woman called Kate who burned down his home with his family inside. Only his sister and uncle survived.

 Derek is a werewolf too, and Stiles is pretty certain that it was his next girlfriend who put this spell on him. Stiles’ heart aches for this man and he wishes his life could have been different. He can feel the self loathing that leaks through Derek’s words and Stiles knows that it’s meant to be private.

 His words are not meant for a skinny night guard who gets into more trouble than not. Stiles would stop reading, would stop except he thinks Derek deserves life more than his privacy.

 “Can you find his sister, though?” Scott asks him softly. For once they’re both at the apartment they share, and Scott’s finally calmed down after he realised that Stiles stole the book and brought it home with him.

 Stiles bites his lip through his small smile. “Yeah, maybe,” he says. “He’s kind of estranged from them though. Definitely from the uncle, not sure about the sister. Something to do with how his girlfriend killed his family.”

 Scott sighs and rubs his eyes. He thinks that maybe his friend is getting too deep into this. All he wants to talk about is the Sleeping Beauty. More than before, more than when he was trying to get the whole town to stop kissing him. Now Stiles talks about this guy Derek like he knows him.

 And maybe he does, but Scott still worries about his friend.

 “Stiles, if you care so much about him waking up, why don’t you kiss him?” he asks.

 Stiles scowls in return. “You know I don’t agree with that bullshit. He doesn’t deserve to be assaulted by kisses.”

» 

 He finds Laura. Stiles sends her a letter and asks her to come to town. They meet up at a cafe and Stiles is too nervous to break it down gently. The words stumble out of his mouth and he sees a ring of red around Laura’s eyes. Her teeth sharpen and she is livid, dragging Stiles to his feet and demanding to see her brother.

 She’s kind of horrified when she steps into the room. Her eyes land on Derek and a single tear drops down her cheek. Stiles’ throat feels thick and he turns on his heel, ready to give the two privacy. His heart sags for Laura.

 “I can’t do anything about the whole kissing thing, I’ve tried,” he says quietly. “So. Um. Can you get Paige?”

 Laura sighs, collapsing near her brother. She sits on the seat Stiles often frequents. “She’s dead,” Laura manages, running a hand through Derek’s hair. “Derek had to kill her after the bite didn’t take.”

 Stiles’ eyes widen.

 He’s a little disappointed and not sure what he’s supposed to do now. Laura leaves after a day because she still has a life back where she calls home. She kisses Stiles’ cheek before she goes, her eyes hollow and sad. They both know the power of magic. They both know that Derek’s never going to wake up again. At least she knows where he is now.

 Stiles looks after him as best he can. Still talks to him. Runs his fingers through his hair in comfort like his sister once did. He feels a little empty, knowing no one can help this guy. But it’s nice to have someone to talk to even if they can’t talk back. Even if they probably can’t hear him.

 »

 When Kate pays her dollar or two, it’s almost closing time. Stiles has just started his shift and the blonde woman looks at Derek like the situation is funny, like she owns him, and like she’s up to no good. Stiles straightens and stalks over to her.

 “Excuse me, we’re closing.”

 “Well let me kiss those lips of his, then.” She laughs. “Maybe I’m his true love after all.”

 “What’s that supposed to mean?” Stiles narrows his eyes. “Who are you?”

 “Kate,” she says absently. She flickers her eyes down Stiles’ torso. “I’m no one.”

 Stiles freezes before his nostrils flare. He feels a growl almost rip out of him and despite her protests at already having paid, he forces her out of the room. Stiles throws a five dollar bill after her from his own wallet and he catches one of the other worker’s eyes so that they escort her out.

 He wants her dead. Stiles is surprised by how much he wants it. She killed Derek’s family and she certainly deserves it if she comes back here to flaunt her smile at Derek’s still, resting body. It’s sickening.

 Stiles sits by Derek and stays there the whole night. He doesn’t take his eyes off Derek and he doesn’t leave to roam around the rest of the museum. It’s not a secret that Derek’s beautiful – it is a part of the name – but the way his dark eyelashes rest over his pale cheeks is entrancing. The line of his nose catches the edge of the light and Stiles wants to know the colour of his eyes.

 His own eyelids feel heavy and he swears he never fell asleep, but just as it starts to get light he’s awoken by the smell of smoke. The fire alarms are not going off and Stiles begins to panic, already coughing.

 There’s no one to call for help but he’s sure as hell not leaving Derek here. “Come on, big guy,” he mutters, trying to pull Derek over his shoulder. The man is heavy, but he tries, Derek’s shoes dragging over the ground. Stiles kind of drops him accidentally down a few steps and maybe down the next ones too. His muscles are aching and it’s hell trying to pick Derek up again. His chest hurts, his face is hot, and there’s smoke everywhere.

 “Fuck,” Stiles says, and he’s sliding down a wall with Derek’s weight on him. Just for a second, he thinks, head spinning. Just a second’s break and then he can get the both of them out of here. He feels like crying when Derek sinks onto him, still breathing and head slumped to Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles turns his head.

 “I’m sorry, Derek,” he mumbles against his hair. “I’m sorry for everything.” He lets out one last sigh and presses his lips against Derek’s head. He falls unconscious just as Derek begins to wake up.

» 

 There’s flames and smoke and he doesn’t recognise the man beside him by sight, and his scent is too clogged up by the smoke to catch it. Derek knows who it is though. It’s the man who has talked to him for months, the man who has kept him company and who brought back his sister. It’s the man who among the discomfort of strangers and their scents made him feel at ease. It’s Stiles.

 Derek drags himself to his feet and pulls Stiles into his arms. He begins to walk.

» 

 There are fire trucks pulled up to the building and an ambulance for good measure. Derek is a vision, coming through those doors, and everyone recognises him, that night guard in his arms. The flames lick up behind him and the edge of his silhouette flickers.

 It’s almost like magic, the way people’s eyes are drawn to him. It takes a moment before the paramedics take Stiles from him and when they turn back to Derek he’s already slipped away. He’s fine. His lungs are fine and for once being a werewolf has saved him.

 It’s impossible to take in Stiles’ scent from below the smoke and so he doesn’t even try, running past the crowds of people, the trickle of the sunlight pulling him away. He can’t be where his body was used for money, he can’t.

 Once he has run and shifted between forms, he finds that he’s desperately hungry. He wanders back to the town and makes his way to a diner. He gulps down his food and every time someone touches him he flinches. He dines and dashes and would feel guilty about it, but outside the diner there was an ad for his exhibit.

 He catches a familiar scent, but it’s coated in distress. Derek throws out a hand and pulls the running man aside. Their eyes flare bright at each other.

 The man gapes. “Derek?”

 Derek blinks. “Scott,” he says finally.

 “Man, you’re awake! What happened? And you know me??” he shakes his head and Derek has to take a step back. “I, I, the museum. There was a fire, I have to get to Stiles –”

 “He’s on his way to the hospital,” Derek says, eyeing the man carefully. He’s accustomed to Scott’s scent but it doesn’t mean he’s accustomed to people. Scott runs off, barely thinking, and Derek follows where his scent has just come from.

 He breaks in by the window and another scent floods his nostrils besides Scott’s. Derek follows it to the bedroom and collapses on Stiles’ bed sheets, taking in the only scent that doesn’t send him running. He’s free, he’s free, not trapped in his body feeling people touch him, kiss him.

 Once comfort floods through his senses he switches on a tv and hears the news. The picture of him in front of the flames is striking and everywhere. They wonder where he’s gone. They speak of the man he saved who is doing well in the hospital. Derek sags in relief.

 Derek helps himself to more food, though the cupboards are a little bare. It doesn’t matter because he could eat anything. He feels like he’s not had food for months and despite being still and ‘sleeping,’ he feels exhausted. Derek showers and finds some clothes. It’s only sweatpants that he can find that fit.

 He wanders around the apartment and lets his muscles move and stretch. Derek has to get his scent everywhere he can, with Stiles’, and he wants to smile a little at the photographs he sees. When he’s finally exhausted, from his life, from everything, he falls onto Stiles’ bed and sleeps properly for a long time.

» 

 Derek’s woken with a jolt by the sound of a door unlocking and someone groans.

 “Uh, he’s here and his scent is everywhere,” Scott shudders.

 “Derek?” A familiar voice calls out.

 He rises and heads out of Stiles’ room. He hears the intake of Stiles’ breath. Derek thinks he looks beautiful, even though it’s clear that he’s tired. Stiles has a woollen jumper pulled tight around his shoulders and there are deep shadows under his eyes. Derek wonders how long he slept.

 “Do, do you know who I am?” Stiles asks nervously.

 Derek tilts his head to the side.

 “He knew who I was,” Scott mutters, probably uncomfortable at having another werewolf in his home. Stiles hits him to be quiet.

 “You talk too much,” Derek says, voice still rough.

 Stiles begins to smile. “Really? You heard me? Well, if no one is there to shut me up that’s kind of what can happen.”

 “I can’t believe you fell in love with an unconscious person,” Scott grumbles, beginning to leave.

 “It’s true love,” Stiles yells after him and promptly begins coughing really hard, a blush tingeing his cheeks. It sounds deep and throaty, as if he should still be in the hospital. Derek shoves a day old glass of water at him.

 “Thanks,” he says gently.

 “Should you really be out of the hospital?”

 Stiles shrugs.

 Derek says nothing.

 “Um,” says Stiles. “Do you want me to call your sister?”

 Derek nods, the movement tight. “She came here,” he says quietly, and he’s not sure he believes it. Derek hasn’t talked to Laura for years, too guilty to look her in the eye.

 “Yeah. Dude, you know you can stay here as long as you like, okay?” Stiles steps forward. Derek nods. “And just so you know, I don’t expect anything at all from you because I kissed you and you woke up. That’s cool. We don’t really know each other, I get it.”

 “I listened to you,” Derek says.

 “I read your diaries,” he blurts out. “And your sister came and stuff. Told me about you.”

 Derek looks to the floor.

 “Everyone’s looking for you, you know.”

 “I know.”

 The silence stays for a little too long.

 “I ate all your food.”

 Stiles laughs. “That’s okay. I’m a little hungry, though. Should we go out and have something?”

 Derek looks at the door. “There are people out there.”

 “Yeah?”

 “They might touch me.”

 Stiles nods and shuffles further into the apartment. He says they’ll order in.

 Derek allows himself a smile and sits on the edge of the couch. Stiles puts in extra effort to stay as far away from him as possible since he flinches at the slightest movements, and when the pizza comes Derek knows his eyes flash blue.

» 

 It’s months before Derek’s totally comfortable having another person touch him. He lets Stiles’ hand reach out and brush his shoulder and he lets himself rest his head on Stiles’ lap. Stiles’ fingers run through his hair, and it’s the only form of comfort he’ll accept.

 Stiles just seems happy he’s here, giving so much time to Derek now that he has no job to go back to. Their fingers catch at each other and Derek draws Stiles’ knuckles up to his lips. He smells the happiness that floods through Stiles’ scent and everything is enough.

» 

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all enjoyed.
> 
> Originally posted on my [tumblr](http://matildajones.tumblr.com/post/96259552190/sterek-modern-day-sleeping-beauty-something):)


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